


Forever Neverland

by FelisVulpes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dreamshade, Fluff, Lost Boys, Multi, Neverland, Season 3, The Jolly Roger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3277520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelisVulpes/pseuds/FelisVulpes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Emma was the one who'd been hit by the venom-tipped arrow?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Simple Things

Leaves delicately crunched underfoot, the crying once again reached Emma’s ears. She tried to ignore it, block it out; Christ, she hated Neverland. Her honeyed locks flipped over her shoulder as she looked behind her, the flickering flames of the campfire lighting up the flora around the makeshift shelters. Emma smiled, the light danced across Mary-Margaret’s face; she looked so peaceful wrapped up in David’s arms, both of them fast asleep. Although she felt abandoned, although she felt angry, and although their relationship was oh, so complicated; Emma loved them both dearly, and wouldn’t have traded her parents for anything in the world.

As Emma edged further away from the campsite, she slipped just out of sight, leaning against a tree, and taking a deep breath. Her fingers reached down to the hem of her vest, and, hands shaking, she slowly rolled it up to just under her bust. She bent her neck down, a wince and gasp escaping her as she ground her teeth, the pulsing, _purple_ slice across her ribs making her eyes widen. “What the _hell_?” Emma growled, letting her shirt fall again. She leaned around the tree to look back at the campsite, seeing a hooked arm emerge from one of the shelters as the pirate shifted in his sleep. Emma rolled her eyes at her own stupidity, at letting herself get hit. With a grunt, she pulled herself away from the tree and back towards the fire, sitting by it to warm herself up.

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but when she awoke it was still dark, the fingertips of sunlight just beginning to lighten the horizon. The fire was now a small pile of smouldering coals, and Emma shimmied closer, clinging on to what little warmth was left. She watched the sky for a while, her hair splayed out under her head, mud clinging to it but she didn’t care. With a grimace she sat up, baring her teeth at the pain her side, her hand lifting to gently press the wound but it only made it worse; she bit her lip to prevent a sharp yelp. Emma rolled her lip between her teeth as she very slowly, and very carefully, stood up. Everyone else was still asleep, and Emma’s eyes rolled over the campsite, trying to thing of anything she could do. One of her hands slipped into her hair. “Water,” She whispered.

Leaving her bag, but taking her sword – so everyone knew she was okay – and wineskin, Emma trundled out of the camp. She didn’t stray too far, making sure she could still see the dying smoke of the fire pit, knowing that she could shout for help and still be heard, should Pan appear. She smirked a little, wondering if Pan was at all like BeetleJuice; would he appear if she said his name three times? She doubted it, but it was an amusing thought, and thinking back to her old life, her life that didn’t have any magic, didn’t have any Neverland and was so much easier to deal with, was refreshing.

Eventually, Emma came across a small pool. The water was a shimmering silver, a striking difference to the dark forest and jungle around her, but at the same time it was clear; she could see the mottled pebbles on the bed as if looking through a thin sheet of glass. A small stream appeared to cut through it, snaking in at one end of the pool with a small waterfall, and slithering out at the other with a gentle babbling brook. With a slight crunch of the undergrowth, Emma sank to her knees, immediately submerging her hands into the cool water, a sigh of relief flooding through her.

She withdrew her hands, quickly and messily tucking her hair behind her ears, before lowering her face to the pool. Her hands were then in the water once again, cupped together and scooping the icy liquid into her mouth, though a great deal of it dribbled down her chin and neck, sparkling in the creeping sunlight. Emma sat up again, pulling her wineskin from her belt. It wasn’t the most robust drinking vessel; the neck was a tad to wide for the cork, so it occasionally leaked, particularly if she accidentally leant on it, but she hadn’t though to bring a water bottle with her, and it was the only thing she could find on Hook’s ship.

Emma removed the cork, and held the wineskin under the water until the bubbles stopped. She lifted the dripping leather out of the pool, and plugged it with the cork, putting the vessel on the ground next to her, and gently splashing her face with water. She tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. The sun was taking it’s time to light up the sky, and Emma knew the others back at the camp probably wouldn’t be awake yet, as the stars were still twinkling above, but only just; and even if they were awake, travel wouldn’t be safe until they had daylight. She pursed her lips ever so slightly, debating this opportunity of a soak in the pond. She missed the bath and shower at Mary-Margaret’s apartment, and going this long without submerging herself in some body of water (other than throwing herself off of the Jolly Roger) felt wrong.

Yep, she was going to do it. Emma began to wrestle off her boots, placing them next to the wineskin, and shoving her socks inside them. She shimmied out of her trousers, and very carefully deprived herself of her shirt, worried about brushing the cut with the now coarse material. Emma gently pulled her breast to the side, attempting to get a look at the damage a little better in the faint light of dawn. She couldn’t help the worry in her eyes as she gazed at the throbbing wound, her brow furrowing. It hadn’t been the light last night, the gash across her ribs was not only purple, but so was the skin around it, dark veins spilling out.

Emma closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, before removing her bra and her underwear, and slowly stepping into the water. “Oh, shit!” She squeaked, splashing a little as the cold made contact with her skin. She awkwardly stood at the edge of the pool, her arms wrapped around her chest as she waited for her skin to get used to the cool water, and very slowly, she moved further in. When she was finally submerged up to her shoulders, Emma let her feet leave the pool bed, and allowed herself to float, trying to ignore the sting on her ribs. A small chuckle broke past her lips; she felt so relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever; being a bail bonds woman wasn’t the most chilled out job, and coming to Storybrooke? Every day was a new adventure, or rescue mission, or something of the like. As the stars began to fade above her, she new her time was nearly up, and she made her way out of the pool, and began to redress.

As Emma made her way back into the camp, Mary-Margaret ran up to wrap her in a firm embrace, David not far behind. “Oh, Emma! Where were you? We were so worried,” She chided, trying to put on her best motherly voice. Emma chuckled slightly.

“I was just topping up my water,” She replied. Her mother gave her a stern look, before smiling at her fondly.

“Oh for crying out loud,” The Queen rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. “Peter Pan is out there, and he has my son. Care to get this little song and dance over with?” She shook her head, eyes shifting between Mary-Margaret and Emma. The blonde rolled her eyes, sauntering over to the fire to collect her bag.

“Good morning to you too, Regina,” She mumbled. “But, she does have a point. We need to find Henry.”

“Glad that’s something we agree on.” Regina retorted, straightening up her jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short... It looked a lot longer on Word o.o
> 
> I hope you enjoy o3o
> 
> And also not proofread... Sorry! >3


	2. Keeping Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this has taken me so long; I've had a lot on my mind and I've been desperately trying to find a job and the previous month has just been flat out shit.
> 
> Also, whilst this is following the canonological storyline, reactions, words and things are going to be different. A) If everyone says and does the exact same things, it's not going to be entertaining, B) If David isn't hiding anything, then he wouldn't be acting strange and thus everyone else would be chilled out. C) I really didn't fancy copying out a script x3
> 
> Please enjoy!!!

The jungle was thick, the air damp, and the world around them uncomfortably quiet; Hook had travelled to many a land and realm, but no woodland disturbed him as much as the jungles of Neverland. Everywhere was some plant waiting to poison you, drug you, or attempt to swallow you whole. But the silence; that was the worst. No exotic birds with rainbow’d beaks and colourful plumage, singing their songs and calling to one another. No big cat, with a mane along it’s spine and a striped coat to hide among the thick brush, growling as it approached it's prey. No, Neverland was always filled with a deadly silence. Nothing but the crunching of five pairs of feet.

Emma had handed the the map to Mary Margaret, and was letting her lead the way. Hook could hear her laboured breathing; surely the saviour wasn’t that unfit? _What, Swan, can’t handle a humble trek through the jungle?_ He smirked silently to himself. But as he observed, her pace slowed, and her breaths almost seemed to weigh her down. A frown tugged at the corners of the Captain’s mouth. “Come on, Love. Not too much farther before can make camp,” he encouraged. The look the Saviour shot him made him raise hand and hook in defence.

“Emma!” The Saviour raised her head, lifting her heavy gaze to Mary Margaret, who had stopped dead in her tracks. “Emma, Pan’s camp keeps moving.” Hook heard Emma curse under her breath, and followed her up to Mary Margaret’s side.

“What do you mean, it keeps moving?” Emma quizzed, wiping her forehead with a sweaty palm.

“It just… It keeps moving. Pan’s camp was over here,” Mary Margaret jabbed the map with a finger, “and now it’s here.”

“Then why give us the map in the first place?” David grumbled, a huff escaping him as he crossed his arms. Mary Margaret’s eyes flicked over the details of the map, searching for some kind of straight forward answer, before looking at Emma. Her confused look changed to one of concern.

“Emma? Are you feeling well?” She asked. She reached out to rest a soft hand on Emma’s arm. “You look very pa-“

“Yeah,” Emma cut her off, shrugging away from the contact. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just great. Just… Just want to get Henry back. What do we do about this map?” Her palm moved from her forehead to grip her hair, her other hand resting on her hip.

The pirate’s eyes scanned his company. “I might know someone who can help,” he murmured. His tongue wetted his upper lip as he ever so slightly tilted his head back. “A fairy, whom I was once rather well acquainted with during my time here in Neverland.” After a moment of realisation, Emma had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. She knew this story all too well.

“Let me guess; Tinker Bell?” She groaned. Emma almost missed the flash of panic on Regina’s face. Hook’s face broke into his usual, smarmy grin.

“How _did_ you guess, Swan?” he chuckled.

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Regina stepped in. “We don’t know if we can trust her. For all we know she might be working with Pan.” The queen’s hands slapped down onto her thighs.

“Yeah, but she might be our only way of getting to Henry,” Emma decided, before addressing her attention to the Captain of the Jolly Roger. “Where can we find Tinker Bell?” Hook reached over to divest Mary Margaret of the map, holding it out in front of Emma, and gesturing with his gaff.

“Here. It’s too long a journey to make before sunset,” his tongue clicked on the final syllable, “but we can make camp here, and continue at daybreak.” He moved his hook to point out their resting place for the night.

-

The sun was beginning to disappear, the last rays breaking through the trees as they entered the clearing. The journey had taken a lot longer than anticipated, as Emma had, on multiple occasions, needed to stop. She insisted that she was okay, she was just tired and stressed, and being without Henry was getting to her. Regina had almost sympathised with her; almost. Emma sat herself down on a log, mulling over the map as the camp was set up. David and Hook were off collecting firewood, and hopefully not killing each other; Mary Margaret was hoisting up the few blankets they had with them, turning them into makeshift tents, pegged up between stray branches of trees; and Regina was impatiently, irritatedly pacing back and forth.

Emma grumbled to herself, carelessly folding up the map and shoving it into her bag. _Who the hell does Pan think he is?_ She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking her locks over her shoulders. _Stupid, punk-ass kid_. As a sigh escaped her lips, Emma pulled her hair back into a ponytail, loosely tying it in place with an escaped strand. She let her hands fall into her lap, palms upward, eyes scanning across the contours of her fingers. This clamminess wasn’t helping with anything. Yes, the wound hurt like piss, was making her sweat like a pig, and clearly she was unwell, but Henry came first. When she had Henry back, then she’d get Mary Margaret to have a look at it. If it was that bad, then she could always go to the Emergency Room when they got back to Storybrooke. Biting her tongue, Emma slowly removed her bag, trying not to wince at the pain shooting up her right side, and dropped the satchel by the log; she wasn’t going to get Henry back by moping. She wiped the sweatiness off of her hands and onto her jeans, before moving to help Mary Margaret with the shelters.

It wasn’t too long before Hook and David returned, each with an armful of deadwood and shrubbery for the fire. Kicking some rocks into the middle of the clearing to create a stable base, David began to assemble the logs. Hook placed his cargo next to David, though his eyes were on Emma; something was definitely off. He watched as she attempted to tie the corner of a blanket to a low branch just above her head; the movement clearly pained her, especially the higher her arm was raised. Hook pursed his lips in concern, his brow furrowing as he noticed the tear in her vest, just below her right breast. When had that happened? Was she injured? Had the wound been infected? Was that why she was acting strange? The pirate ran his hand down his face.

Emma felt the cloth being taken from her hands, a hook impaling the corner to the branch, whilst a tan, scarred hand fastened it in place with a small length of rope. “Allow me, Love,” Hook murmured; his tongue rolling over the term of endearment. Emma let a small smile hit her lips.

“Thanks.” She dropped her hands from the fabric, sliding them into her pockets. When the blanket was secure, the pirate’s arms dropped, and he stepped close.

“Swan, what exactly is going on?” He demanded. Emma looked up at him, confusion across her face. What an earth was he on about? “Emma, the tear in your vest.”

“It’s nothing.” She lied, staring him in the eye.

“And I’m not a Captain.” Hook raised his eyebrows, raising his hand to scratch behind his ear, giving her _that_ look. “Emma, Love, you’re somewhat of an open book.” This time, she did roll her eyes.

“Okay, I got hit, or something,” Emma admitted, sighing as her gaze dropped to the floor. “But it’s nothing. I must have caught myself on a branch or rock or whatever,” and before the pirate could quiz her anymore, she pushed away and went to join David by the fire, just as it began to crackle into life. Hook continued to observe her. He knew there was more to it than that, and he was going to find out what.

-

When the light finally began to return to the land, the pirate awoke from his slumber. As he sat up and rubbed the tiredness from his face, he pulled himself upright, his eyes scanning over his companions. Regina was prowling around the dying fire; she’d been on last watch. The ‘Charmings’ were fast asleep under their shelter, and thankfully, Emma was also asleep under her own canvas. Hook dug his false limb into the ground, moving to his feet and standing up. Regina acknowledged him with mere eye contact and pursed lips, but he could see her shoulders drop as she relaxed ever so slightly. The Queen was probably glad the she no longer had to baby the others. Hook’s lips curved up in a slight smirk, his foot scraping as he kicked dirt over the fire. Waiting for the others to rouse, he thought back to last night’s brief conversation with Emma. Realisation hit.

With everyone now awake, it was time to make a move. Emma very carefully slipped her satchel back over her head; Hook might’ve known she was hit, but she didn’t need David and Mary Margaret fawning and worrying over her. Regina started to lead the way this time, Snow and Charming following her out of the camp. Emma lagged back a little, partially because of the pain, partially because she wanted to make sure they weren’t leaving anything behind. She hadn’t noticed Hook was waiting behind also. “Swan,” He summoned. He saw her muscles spasm as she jumped, before slowly turning around to face him.

“Don’t do _that_!” She whined, her brow furrowing a little. “I could’ve thought you were a lost boy and… punched you in the face or something.” That brought a smile to the pirate’s lips, but one that quickly disappeared. He looked down at his hand, fidgeting with one of his rings.

“Emma, when did you say you were hit?” Hook’s voice was low and demanding; he wasn’t going to let her bullshit her way out of it this time.

The Saviour tried her best to avoid making eye contact, shuffling uncomfortably. “When we cheated at Pan’s game, and the Lost Boys with their bows and a-“ she didn’t have time to finish her speech, Hook had grabbed her arm firmly, genuine worry in his paralleling the confusion in hers.

“Love, let me see,” he murmured. Emma pulled her arm away, stepping back slightly.

“Hey there, you’re not gonna get me topless that easi-“

“Emma, Love, shut up and let me see the damn wound.” Emma’s throat bobbed, and she pursed her lips as she carefully rolled her vest up, leaning ever so slightly to allow Hook to see the thin cut across her ribcage. Hook studied the injury with concerned eyes, murmuring something too quietly for Emma to hear, his stare following the trail of the purple veins. He gave her a stern look, and repeated himself.

“Dreamshade. Emma, that arrow was laced with Dreamshade. If that reaches your heart…”

“I’ll be _fine_.” Emma insisted. “Regina can probably heal me, or maybe teach me to do it myself. Who knows, maybe this Tinker Bell can fix me up with some fairy dust. But Henry comes first. When I’ve got my son back, then I’ll worry about it.” Hook rubbed his forehead, letting out an exasperated sigh. The fairy dust was a possibility, but if Tinker Bell had none, not even Regina’s magic could cure the Saviour’s ailment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It really bugs me that I don't know how to format this properly...
> 
> For those of you who don't know, a gaff was a hook on the end of a pole, similar to a harpoon and used for similar purposes. It was supposedly gaff hooks that were used as these piratical prosthetics.


End file.
